Free Jane Bonander by Winter Heart

knuckles were white.
    Dinah dreaded the following day already. Surely they wouldn’t send her off alone with Emily. The dead lump of apprehension clogged her throat again, though she was beginning to get used to the feeling.
    Mrs. Linberg dumped her bread dough onto the counter and sliced off a hunk, forming it into a round loaf. The process fascinated Dinah. Although she’d never learned how to cook, as a young girl, Dinah had often watched her mother’s chef and wished she could dabble in the kitchen. Maybe she would have a chance here. That is, if she wasn’t out on her scrawny rump at the end of the month.
    Mrs. Linberg continued to form dough into loaves. “That poor brother of yours gets nothing done around here, and it’s because of you and your childish behavior. Don’t think you’ve fooled him, girl, because you haven’t. He knows what you’re up to. It wouldn’t hurt him to threaten you once in a while.”
    Dinah usually enjoyed confrontation, or at least was able to tolerate it. This morning she wanted to slink from the room. She started for the door.
    “What do you think, Dinah?”
    Dinah stopped and ran her fingertips over the tabletop. “I think that he should be commended for not returning Emily to that kind of place, Mrs. Linberg. Remember,” she offered, “I’ve been there, too. It’s no place for anyone, no matter what’s wrong with them.”
    Emily watched her with renewed interest. “I don’t remember much about it.”
    Dinah wasn’t surprised. Daisy had told her there were people who chose to forget their unpleasant experiences, and were able to do so. Surely part of Emily’s hostility was based on what she’d been through during those years. But she was fragile, too. Not only physically, but mentally as well. Stress brought about Emily’s unusual behavior, and Dinah had no doubt that her own arrival had exacerbated it. Emily’s moods swung from one end of the pendulum to the other without provocation.
    “Be grateful your brother hasn’t considered sending you there again, Emily. Be grateful.”
    Fragrant honeysuckle grew up the slatted walls of the gazebo. Emily sat on a cushioned seat inside, in the shade, while Dinah lolled on a blanket in the sun, her eyes closed and her face soaking in the, warmth.
    “You should be wearing a capote,” Emily suggested.
    Dinah smiled. “A capote, huh?”
    “I’ll bet you don’t know what a capote is.”
    Opening her eyes, Dinah saw Emily’s smug smile as she sketched quickly on a pad.
    “You don’t think so?”
    “None of my other nurses did.”
    Dinah stretched, feeling like a cat in the sunshine. Though Emily had a good vocabulary, she didn’t use it often. Most of the time her sentences were short and simple.
    “My mother used to wear a lavender one to match her purple cape. I could never see her head for the wide brim of the bonnet around her face.”
    Emily screwed up her tiny nose. “I thought I’d get you with that one.” She studied Dinah. “Mama always told me a lady never sits in the sun without a wide-brimmed hat and gloves.”
    “My mother told me that, too. But believe me, after a year inside those dismal gray walls, etiquette is thrown to the wind.”
    “Sometimes I wish I remembered,” Emily mused.
    “I’d be grateful I didn’t, if I were you. I, on the other hand, remember everything so vividly, it is as if it were yesterday.” It almost was.
    They sat together, sharing a quiet peace. Emily continued to sketch quickly on a pad she held in her lap.
    Dinah scrambled to her feet. “What are you drawing?”
    A guilty shadow crossed Emily’s face, and she hid the tablet in the folds of her gown. “Nothing.” She clutched her hands in her lap.
    Dinah slowed her steps as she entered the shaded gazebo. “I’d like to see what you’ve done, Emily.”
    Emily’s expression was defiant. “I won’t show you. If you make me, I’ll pinch you.”
    Dinah raised her hands in defeat. “Fine. It’s probably a lot